Harry Potter Fanfiction Cauldron
by The Serpent Guardian
Summary: A collection of story starts, summaries, and plots. Mostly Harry, some Remus later. All will break the traditional concepts of characters. All under PG 13, if continued they will be slash.
1. Story Start Placement

**Harry Potter Fanfiction Cauldron (Hp Fic Cauldron) By The Serpent Guardian**

**Disclaimer:** I am not JKR, I do not own Harry Potter or his world. I just own the situations I put him in.

**AN:** This is a collection of unfinished stories, story summaries and ideas. I wanted to know readers responses to some of these. I have quite a few ideas, and more then enough story starts, I would like to know which the public thinks I should work on.

I have had all these works gathered in one place for some time, I call them collectively "The Cauldron," thus the reason behind the name. Since all of these are unfinished and nowhere near being actual story attempts, they are mostly unedited with quite a few plot holes, and such. They appear almost exactly as I have originally scratched them onto paper when I was supposed to be taking a test, doing homework, so on. The only thing I have changed is their legibility, grammar and spelling mistakes. Mind there might still be a few of those as I have no beta.

Each story attempt will appear as its own chapter with its own warnings. Feel free to skip any of them. Enjoy and tell me what you think of them in a review.

Rated PG, repeated references to the ending of the Third Task is the only thing keeping this from a G rating. I do not own The Hobbit, not a crossover.

**Placement**

Harry started at the ceiling, not registering what he was seeing; after all it wasn't the ceiling that he was seeing. He was seeing the aftermath of the Third Task. Again. Again. Again. Again…

He had already done all his homework, gone over his first year books, cover to cover, mind. And started his second year. He needed something to occupy him. Something that didn't inadvertently remind him of… Him. He had almost torn his copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. He couldn't stand the sight of his broom, indeed anything Quidditch only served to fuel his already foul mood. His relatives had even steered clear of him, allowing him to sulk in his room as he saw fit. And sulk he did. Again it replayed. Again. Again.

Again…

He muted a sound of frustration and rolled gracelessly off his, well what was passing as his, bed. At least it was better then the pile of blankets he had used in the cupboard. He stalked, well what would have been a stalk if the appropriate energy had been applied, it was more of a stumbling fall, to the bookcase. Once he had made the required three steps he glared at the books. The only things as yet untouched by Dudley's powers of destruction when it came to his things. Amusing thought that, that Dudley could hold anything resembling a power of destruction. He sighed. He was _supposed_ to be distracting himself, not depress himself even further. Sighing again, he looked at the books.

Most of them were children's books. Books like, "See Spot. See Spot run." type deals. He'd be surprised if Dudley could get past the second page. Just when he was going to give it up as hopeless, he saw something that was out of place. All the books on the self were brand new, practically untouched save the dust. Among the dusty books, was another perhaps even dustier book, but unlike the others, its corners were bent, the cover tattered and worn, the writing on the spine completely worn off. Picking it up, Harry looked at the faded cover. In the four corners there were impressions, as if there had once been something pressed into the roughly worked leather. (The fact that the book was leather bound was a cause for curiosity. And that had always been Harry's downfall.) It looked as if there had been gold gilding drawn in a vine circle on the front cover, and yes, on the back as well. Curiosity over ruling all his common sense, which he had to admit, was fairly below standard levels, he opened it. And promptly wished he hadn't.

After picking himself off the floor, well trying to at any rate, he finally dragged himself onto the wobbly desk chair that was conveniently next to him. He glared at the book in his hand; it didn't seem to be bothered by the glare. Note to self, Harry thought, learn to glare properly… Perhaps Snape could teach me… Gingerly opening the book again, a slip of paper fell out. After poking at it, and nothing happening, Harry deemed it safe to pick it up and read. He proceeded to do just that.

_Petunia, _

_I thought perhaps young Dudley would enjoy this. It is an original copy of _The Hobbit.

_Arabella Figg_

Well that explained it at least. Mrs. Figg was forever going to yard sales and the like. She had even dragged Harry to a few when he was younger. She seemed to have a fondness for things that were broken and failing apart, that had not even the slightest chance of being repaired. Though Harry had found that to his advantage. She seemed to think that young children had the ability to find treasure among trash, and so had let him buy one thing every time she went. At first Harry had gotten the small broken toys that parents make their children throw away, but he soon learned not to as Aunt Petunia always made him throw away such things as soon as she saw them. So he had found things that Aunt Petunia would never think to check for.

At one particular venture, he had hit quite the jack pot. He had found two ornately carved candle holders. They were at a very cheap price, as the gold paint was flaking off, and the vines they were decorated in were bent and snapped in places. But Harry had liked them. The bent and broken vines seemed only to add realism to them. And he was greatly pleased to find that after he had washed them in the hose in the backyard, that the paint was almost completely removed. Remaining only in the tiny grooves of the leaves, making the leaves look like they had grown from gold, with gold veins. The metal underneath was simple iron.

Harry had made many such finds. And he had hidden them with great care. When he had moved from his cupboard to Dudley's second bedroom, he had had a hard time hiding them anew. But he had found places. And now they were scattered through out the room. The only things that made the room _his_, the only things that provided at least some familiarity.

It seemed though that he had a new find to add to his collection. He had come to trust Mrs. Figg's judgment on what most deemed as "junk," when it came to such things she was the best. So he picked up the book and moved himself to his bed. Having to tuck his feet under him and bend his back to fit on it, didn't bother him much. He hadn't had the room to do so in his cupboard either. And ironically enough, he seemed to hold a great fear of open spaces. At least when they were crowded they didn't seem so big.

Opening the book once again he began to read. His first reaction being, 'This doesn't sound like a muggle book to me.' No thoughts came after this. Time had ceased to exist to Harry, the book was all that mattered. After he had finished it, he read it again. Yes, this, this was what he needed. What he had longed for. Now if he could only achieve it…

**End. **

I have some notes reminding me of what I had planned for this, if requested I will add them to this chapter.


	2. Story Start Romulus and Remus

I'm not sure why I wrote this, or where I came up with most of this… -pouts- No one has reviewed me… Ah well. Not like it matters, you'll just never get a finished hp fic from me.

Apparently I was inspired to write this by Greensage's "Mates." Now I have no idea how… Rated PG 13, slight violence, and weirdness.

**Remus and Romulus**

A young boy giggled softly. He was in the gardens of his family's estate. He ran happily after the fleeting image of a tree sprite. He stopped suddenly when he realized where he'd ended up. He wasn't supposed to be outside the castle's walls! His father would be upset at him now… He started to run back when he heard a muffled whimpering. Concerned, for the young child was very sensitive to those around him, he carefully made his way towards the sound.

He halted in surprise when he saw a wolf pup curled in on itself, tucked into the gnarled roots of an ancient oak. The boy in a worried state quickly went forwards. He was not worried about being attacked by the young creature. He was only a child after all, though he did hold a bit of wariness for the pup's parents. However he would not let that stop him. He had the Touch after all. Most of his family had it. It was the ability to that allowed him to become part of Nature. It was why he could see the tree sprite when most would have seen nothing. He could see all kinds of mystical creatures. His mother had a Touch for the Fae, while he had a Touch for the more natural of creatures. He had always been able to understand the wild creatures of the woods.

And this was no exception. He knew the young pup was in pain, he had injured his paw, running from... something. He wasn't sure what, but it was something bad enough to make the pup continue his wild flight, even with a broken leg. Crouching down beside the wolf, John filtered his senses through the pup's aura. It wasn't good, he was in pain, and the leg wouldn't heal right if he didn't help. But there was something odd about the wolf. Something almost human. But what ever it was it didn't stop John from holding his hands above the pup, almost touching the soft fur, but not quite, and he began to chant softly. Slowly the paw began to glow a soft amber as John's healing power flowed through it, healing the young pup.

The pup lifted its head and liked John's hand, smiling as only a wolf could. Laughing, John began to scratch behind the pup's ears. He was cut off when a snarling blur knocked into his side and snapped at him. John was frightened, he knew this was not a friend. And in a panic his aura enclosed him, burning a bright gold. Though it couldn't stop the mad wolf from snapping his jaws at the young boy.

The pup looked startled and howled, alerting his pack to the rouge werewolf that had been chasing him. His pack came as quickly as they could, not even bothering to pause long enough to see the clearing properly they attacked the wolf gone mad.

(-)(-)(-)

Gael dropped her cup, staring in fright at the fire faery dancing in the dining hall's fireplace. The shattering of glass drew her husband's attention. He quickly rushed over to her, asking what was wrong. She looked at him, and managed two words before she clasped into tears. "Woods… John…" Then she was sobbing in a pile of robes before the fire while faeries of all kinds danced about her, worried.

"No…" Johnathan breathed. "Not our son." But he knew it to be true. Quickly he ran out of his castle, leaving his wife in the hands of the worried faeries. They would care for her till he returned with there son. As he ran he called to his Bonded. Flight, where is my son?

On the edge of the woods to the west of the side garden gate. The words whispered across his mind. There is not much you can do. It has come to pass. All that is left is the end battle. Judge not those who mean only help. With this cryptic advice still flying in circles in his mind Johnathan arrived at a scene that held no rival, not even in his darkest nightmares.

There among the roots of an ancient oak, was his son, bleeding from a wound high on his right leg. A young pup was nuzzling his head against John's shoulder, whimpering in shared pain. His left front paw still glowed with the healing light of his son's aura. In front of him, no guarding the two young ones, were snarling wolves. Werewolves. They were had encircled one of their own. Johnathan could tell just by looking at him that he was a rouge.

For a moment, he wanted to just start firing hexes and curses into the pack. In fact he had his wand out and halfway pointed, when the advice of Flight came back to him. These wolves were merely trying to help his son, who had helped one of theirs. In turn Johnathan would help them. What had come had come. His son would live and become a werewolf, or he would die on the next full moon. For now all that was left to do was to help this battered pack.

Raising his wand he shouted "Stupefy!" and then quickly cast a binding spell on the rouge wolf. With that done, he bowed to the other wolves who were looking upon him in fear. "I mean you no harm. I simply came to aid my son. My wife and I felt his pain. As he helped your pup, you helped mine, and I helped you." He kneeled and laid his wand down before him.

"The sun will rise soon. You are far from your dens. I offer you mine." Johnathan waited silently before the small pack, head bent and disarmed.

The silence that had fallen was shattered by the cries of his son and the whimpers of the pup. Slowly, the alpha came forward, he too bowed his head in respect, and spoke through the link that all of Johnathan's family held with Nature. You have saved us, as your son has saved mine. I will accept your offer of safe refuge and offer you my pack's services for your son's coming Change. And our deepest apologizes and regrets that it has to be so.

One of our own went mad, with the loss of his mate. We were hunting him, when he found the den my son and mate were hiding in, along with all the young and old of our pack. My son ran, hoping to lead him from them, and he seceded. But his leg was broken in his panicked flight. The Traitor had lost his trail. But we too had lost his trail. Traitor found him again right after your son healed mine. We heard the distress calls, and came running. Unfortunately we were too late to stop it.

Nodding his acceptance and understanding Johnathan rose and walked towards his son. My wife and I always knew he would be bond to a creature of the woods. But we didn't know it would happen this way. His life will change now. He picked up his son and petted the wolf pup for a moment, murmuring his thanks for his attempts to help his son.

(-)(-)(-)

It was noon the next day, when the alpha had finally calmed his pack and was able to meet with Johnathan and Gael in the dining hall. "My apologizes for making you wait. And once again I offer you my thanks for your hospitality. My name is Daniel Norwen, my mate's name is C'yol, while my son's name is Danth. We thank you, all my pack does."

Gael just smiled, though her eyes were red, and she looked worn, she was beginning to see a thread of hope. "Welcome as we offer you our thanks for protecting our son, John. What has come is past. It is time we shed the leaves of fall and grow the leaves of spring. Our son is now one of you. But he is still our son. He has unknowingly found his BondBrother. Your son, Danth. We wish the two of them to proceed with the naming ceremony, traditional of our people. We would also be honored if you would participate."

"It seems our two clans have ties to the other through our sons. We want to bind us together as one clan. We offer an alliance between us and family ties." Johnathan added.

Smiling, Daniel nodded. "I'm sure my pack will accept. You have my hope for it. And when I have their constant it will be official."

Gael's face softened as a tiny smile crossed her lips, albeit a small one. "Good, and now that that matter has been worked on, on to the others. There is the matter of schooling for our son. He must be tutored in the ways of the wolf. Both natural and weres. Wolves are his Touched. It seems your son is his will be his Bonded. Strange, because while having a Bonded can be anything, and has been everything from spiders to nymphs, we have never actually come across any who had been Bonded to one so human.

"It is our tradition to name our children at birth; however they chose their own names upon their Binding. While your son may not be one of our kind, Those Who Gift have never been particular about these things. We welcome you and your pack to our clan. Do you accept?"

Daniel looked shocked, but smiled in the end. "You have my acceptance. And soon you will have my pack's acceptance."

(-)(-)(-)

The morning of the full moon, John and Danth were in the most sacred part of the castle's garden. Around them stood John's clan and Danth's pack. Slowly the two boys walked to the small pool in the center of the clearing. Unashamed they stripped themselves of their simple white robes and bathed in the clear waters. They climbed out and donned the robes once again.

Slowly they walked over to a smooth stone on the pool's edge. There was one at each compass point. They stood at the North one and they both took a pinch of salt from the stone goblet and sprinkled it in a circle around the stone in a clockwise direction, deasil. They moved to the east stone, trailing salt behind them, and spread crashed bits of birds' shells deasil around the glass goblet. Moving on to the South stone, they left a trail of broken shells. From the metal goblet they dusted ash, deasil again, around the goblet. They then moved onto the West stone. Water formed a deasil circle and then a trail to the North.

When they had come full circle, stones from the pond's bottom rose to the surface, forming a circle. The two boys quickly stepped onto these stones and faced each other they ran a small dagger down their left arms and grasped each other's arms in a warrior's grasp. Their mixed blood fell in small drops to the water below. When the first drops touched the surface the stones began to rotate. Their eyes locked onto one another's the two boys began to change.

They gathered families were silent. This was a ritual where one did not speak with mind or body, but with heart and soul. They watched in anticipation as their children become BondBrothers.

John's eyes darkened from pale amber to a honey gold, while his dark brown hair lightened to a lighter brown, where the sun's rays seemed to be trapped. Flicks of sliver danced in his eyes and silver strands twined through his hair.

Danth's eyes dimmed from a bright silver to a smoldering grey flicked through with gold. His hair darkened to from the color of sun warmed sand to a honeyed brown, shout through with strands of sliver.

John's golden amber mixed with Danth's sliver moonlight. The two took a piece of each other into themselves, as their spirits twined together. They were brothers of body, and spirit. BondBrothers. And with this knowledge came two names to each. Their own, and their mates.

The rotation of the stones quickened and sank back into the water, taking the boys with them. The families stood and watched. The pack of werewolves did not even move when the full moon rose, for once the sacred light did not drive them into frenzy. But merely changed their form from human to wolf. The circle was complete. Human and wolf alike were in a mixed circle, neither on one side or another, and at dawn when the stones rose again there were two wolf pups standing upon them, their eyes locked.

The werewolves changed to human form and were not tired but elated. There before them stood their alpha's son and his Hunt Brother. The others smiled as they saw their clan leader's son and his BondBrother. The two boys said only six words before they collapsed, exhausted. "Remus Johnathan Lupin." and "Romulus Danth Norwen."

**End. **

I have no idea how or why I came up with these names and then proceeded to _use_ them…


End file.
